Stuck in the middle of freedom and fear

Heart is buried six feet in the ground, gonna need a shovel now

Often as she does it, Colt does not prefer tequila straight up. A shot here and there to loosen up the night. A bottle or a glass when she’s lose the will to do anything else. Her choice is always sour though, so with an offer on hand, she takes the preferred route of enjoying the poison. ”A margarita will do fine honey, thank ya.”

A wry shape settles into her lips as her chin glides into the rest of one hand propped up on the counter. The blonde of her wig shifts against her shoulder, and her shirt gaps in exaggerated fashion against her collarbone. ”Oh, I’m familiar with Suvahasi’s hangover.” A memory she tries her best to keep to the edges of, focusing on the region rather than the person, easier said than done compared to past experience. She isn’t actively trying to bury him lately, but it’s almost like by not doing so, he’s fading that much faster on his own. Could just be that everything else has grown more vibrant in comparison, a pulse of survival humming through her stronger than anything else.

”Well, that’s why it’d need a skyport,” Colt agrees, as if the point isn’t just practical but clear. ”Probably a city first though,” she hums, fingers almost seeming to map it out on the counter as she ponders. ”Clear the land first, get the area manageable… I’m sure Frey and Rae would be willing to shape it into something better resembling hospitable with enough prayer and sweat.”

Colt

Maybe one day I'll get back the rhythm in my chest

knowing I can't turn the rain into sun any more

Colt requested a margarita, and Soh got to mixing one up for her as they continued to talk. It didn't take long before she was presenting the rancher with her beverage of choice, and then Soh was sliding onto a nearby barstool to sip at her own drink. As Colt continued to talk about Hak Etme as though it was actually a place worth taming, Soh wondered how much tequila she'd had before, all alone out in the rain. Surely that was all this was - a little drunken rambling about an idea that would never come to fruition.

But Colt didn't seem drunk enough for that to be the case, and she seemed to be stuck on the idea like a dog gnawing on a particularly juicy bone. Soh surveyed the rancher over the rim of her glass. "I'm sure they could help," she said of Frey and Rae, slowly turning the idea over in her mind. But she kept coming back to one question: why bother?

There was a beat of silence before Soh hesitantly said, "But... is everything okay? That's an awful lot of work when there are already hospitable regions to live in." A pause, and then she added, "You don't have to tell me - I just - I want to be sure you're okay."

Sohalia

Heart is buried six feet in the ground, gonna need a shovel now

She palms the offered drink readily, lifting it up in the curl of her hand to immediately sip at the tart concoction. It slides back smooth and crisp, biting back in just the way she likes, saliva gathering in response. ”This is excellent,” she commends, holding up the drink in thanks to Soh while she takes another pull off the glass, gaze sliding patiently over crystal and counter to the fellow blonde.

Well, she’s put it off long enough.

Inhaling heavily through her nose and dropping her drink back to the bartop with a faint clink, she gathers the words with a residual smack of her lips after the sour. ”No,” she says coolly, gaze training somewhere on a distant wall, an easier place to tell this truth to than a set of eyes that might strain with sympathy that could wound her. ”Everything’s gone to hell.” A beat. ”More than usual.” Where normally a wry twist and a fresh bite of sarcasm might be handed over, Colt’s lips instead thin into a frown, and she shakes her head faintly.

”Lost everything to a fire. The ranch, my home, all the things I own.” They sound like a list of things, and that surely should not be so important, but it’s so much more, for her. ”Everything, gone.” The last places where she could picture her mother. The table she’d sat across from her father every morning after they’d argued the night before. The closet where she’d buried the odds and ends of a husband that didn’t deserve to linger on her, but did anyway. The cableknit sweater Vesper had left her with. Things that carried people and memories in them.

Jewelry she’d picked up from random ventures into towns and shops. Clothing she’d broken in or barely wore, but cherished in some form or another. A lemon tree she’d planted years ago, and a blackberry bush she’d just done this spring, still waiting for it to yield. Colt lost all the marks of time and effort, each one erased in a blink. Her livelihood reduced to rubble, and her home scattering into the wind. Routine, comfort, trust—all of it charred and swept into the dirt.

For the first time, the stark realization of having nothing remaining hits her fully, and a quiet, strangled sob splits the line of her fingers that she’s curled from under her chin and over her lips, pressing in like force alone could keep this back.

Colt

Maybe one day I'll get back the rhythm in my chest

knowing I can't turn the rain into sun any more

Grinning at Colt's praise, Soh lifted her glass in a mock cheers. In truth, she was just glad to have delivered something that the rancher liked; margaritas were not her strong suit, and she had to wonder if perhaps the house spirits had helped in that regard. She knew from firsthand experience that they made a mean cocktail.

Her smile faded with Colt's inhale, turning to a frown as the rancher began to explain - and what she heard had her staring at her friend with empathy and understanding. Soh could understand all too well what it was like to lose one's home - but at least she'd had time to save bits and pieces of hers. The framed maps that decorated her shop. Her favorite set of drafting supplies. Almost her entire closet, packed away in boxes and crates and shipped to Wildering House, where it would be safe. Colt hadn't been afforded that luxury, and for the first time, Soh counted herself lucky to have survived Stormbreak's fall with more than just the clothes on her back.

She was off her barstool and at Colt's side in seconds, wrapping a comforting arm around the rancher's shoulders, leaning her cheek against the top of Colt's wig. "I'm so sorry," she said. There was nothing she could offer, she knew, to make this better, to make the hurt lessen. Nothing except space and time to grieve, and if that was all she could do, then she'd sit with Colt for as long as the woman needed to start to put herself back together again.

Sohalia

Heart is buried six feet in the ground, gonna need a shovel now

The drink sits forgotten on the counter for the rest of the night. It truly isn’t the balm Colt needs, or even the one she wants, it’s just always been easier. Talking, trusting, those are infinitely better and equally more difficult. Opening up, even by degrees, exposes you to as much good as bad. Someone could warm you as surely as wound you, and she’s felt the slip of a knife enough times, even from someone she never expected. Still recovering from all the marks Vesper left her with, she ought to stay more closed than this, but damnit if she isn’t worn so thin that holes have formed on their own.

The sorry brings a fresh sob as Soh cradles around her, because no, it’s not enough. Nothing is. There is no answer to this problem, just the tragedy of enduring. The hold feels enough like a fresh set of armor being put on her though, that Colt splinters entirely. She doesn’t know how long she sags and cries into Soh’s arms, but when the spell of it has finally run its course and she can dab her eyes cry without risk of them wetting immediately over, she pulls away. ”Thanks,” she offers weakly, giving up on the smile partway through the extension of it, the edges wobbling too fiercely.

”Anyway, that’s why I’m thinking of making Hak Etme somewhere liveable.” She winds her fingers through each other, seeking comfort from touch. ”It won’t be easy, I know it, but I think it has potential and I’ve got the time and the means right now.” A faint shrug, because what has she got left to lose, really? ”I’ve been thinking about it for days now… but it’s just an idea.” She glances up at Soh, finally managing that smile, small as it is. ”I think, I’m gonna sleep now, if you don’t mind.” The crying left her eyes feeling heavy and her head foggy, so wrapping up their conversation, Colt passes out on some couch.

[FIN]

Colt

Maybe one day I'll get back the rhythm in my chest